


The Fourth Hall

by solarwitchwrites



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aman (Tolkien), Because Orcs, F/M, Halls of Mandos, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Beta Read, Orcs, Valinor, wonky timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 13:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarwitchwrites/pseuds/solarwitchwrites
Summary: Where do the orcs go when they die?





	The Fourth Hall

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wrote a tumblr post ( http://ramblesofthesolarwitch.tumblr.com/post/179144074620/where-do-the-orcs-go ) and then couldn't get it out of my head. Will hopefully have time to edit later because there's several things off about it, but I'm trying to get in the habit of actually posting more than once in a blue moon so here we are.

Namo left the council without another word. He shed his raiment, and sped across Aman as pure spirit, heading back to his own halls. Vaire followed more slowly, but her worry grew. Her husband often knew more than he could speak of, the curse of his gift of foresight. It was his way, instead, to prepare for that which he could not alter.

On the threshold of Mandos, Vaire paused, and looked back across Aman. The light of the two trees, currently in their hour of mingling before the bloom of Telperion, washed across the land. Beyond the Pelori, however, their light could not reach. The Children of Iluvatar, far away in Cuivienen, knew only starlight. Pity touched Vaire's heart, and she understood the choice of her fellows. 

_How could we not_ , she thought, _desire to bring them out of darkness and danger? How could we not wish to protect them?_

Yet her certainty remained, bolstered by her husband's words: ill would come of this. Vaire turned away from the light, and stepped into the shadows of her husband's halls.

None of the Valar, save Namo and Aule, who had aided Namo in the building of the third hall, yet understood their purpose. But Namo had made them even in the beginning, even before Melkor had begun to twist and corrupt their shaping of Arda. The only thing Namo had told her, grimmer even than usual, was that because of Melkor's actions they would need to be larger than the song had foretold. Aule he had sworn to secrecy concerning the third hall, but Aule had been solemn and silent after its completion, not even speaking of the wonders Vaire had seen him craft within.

As she looked around them now, she realized that they had become larger yet. A terrible foreboding seized her; where before there had been three halls, now there were four. And the fourth... even though all of Mandos was in gentle shade, the fourth hall's opening seemed like the mouth of a pit. The air that rose from it seemed sharp, as if one or two more breaths would bring something foul. Vaire drew her veil across her face and stepped forward. Her husband, she knew, was somewhere within.

But the fourth hall was vaster than the other three together. It quickly split into many labyrinths and warrens, and Vaire only kept her way by sending glowing threads to keep track of all its turns and twists. And all of it lay under total darkness; unlike the first three halls, Namo had set no lights. Nor was the silence of it peaceful. It rang in her ears like a breath drawn before a scream. Vaire clutched her threads and sought her husband. 

At last, in the deepest part, she found him. Here, at least, was some light; a skylight showed a portion of Varda's stars. There was water also, a small lake, its fresh scent welcome after the sharpness of the rest. Namo, clothed in his raiment again, knelt before it, his eyes fixed on the faint reflection of the stars in the pool. He did not look up at her approach, but he spoke.

“Even this will be too much, later,” he murmured. “I shall have to close it up, in the end.” Vaire knelt beside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, and closed his eyes. Vaire remained silent, waiting. At last, Namo opened his eyes, and looked at her.

“This hall was not meant to exist,” he told her, “and great grief will come of it. But even if Manwe had chosen otherwise...” he trailed off, eyes distant, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. “I think it still would have been needed,” he said finally, looking at the twisting tunnels around them. They were rough-hewn, wild rock, nothing like the first three halls. Something cold wormed down Vaire's spine. 

The first hall was shaded in deep twilight, gentle on the eyes, restful but warm, and Namo had requested Vaire and Varda to adorn it with tapestries and lights. The second was much smaller, but similar in nature, though it ended in a final door that Namo had forbidden them all, in the name of Eru, from opening or even touching. The third, in size equal to the first, he had shaped with Aule alone, but Vaire had seen it. It was beautiful, a match for Aule's own dwellings and forges, shaped lovingly from stone and metal and gem. 

The second hall was merely a way-point for that final door, Vaire was sure. But the first was a dwelling place, as was the third. And Namo had spoken with Aule about the third after Aule had confessed to them his creation of the Khazad, and of Eru's mercy regarding them. With sharp eyes and glowing threads, Vaire began to pick out patterns in the seemingly random twists of this fourth hall.

Here mounds shaped for sleeping, though nothing soft yet lay for cushion. Here rocks for sitting. And there, clear spaces; meeting halls, she would have thought, and yet something seemed not right about the answer. There were strange alcoves to them, as if Namo expected those within to wish to hide. 

Vaire drew back her threads, and looked at her husband. Namo watched her, silently. Waiting. 

Slowly, Vaire took a breath. “You spoke against the coming of the Children to Aman. Yet already you have prepared a place for them, and for Aule's unplanned ones also. And now you have formed this place of darkness.” Namo still did not speak. Vaire had not expected him to.

“So there is another road, one ordained in the song, by which they were already expected. Despite their origins, it is a road that Aule's children will tread as well, or else you should not have made them a place. But it grieved Aule to make it, even though he wished to have his children close.” Namo flinched, and Vaire, briefly, saw the pain it had caused him to bring grief to his friend. 

Embracing her husband, Vaire finished. “It must be a terrible road, to pain you both. And those who are meant to come to this hall... they will have the worst road of all. Am I close to the mark, husband?” Namo shuddered in her arms. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“You have the right of it, wife. Well do they call you the shrewdest of us; you always guess the most of what I cannot say.” He looked up at her, and even in the dark his eyes were shining. Reaching up a shaking hand, he touched her face.

“It was built last, but this hall will see the first use. When you hear them... when you hear them, fetch Nienna and Este.”

After that, he would say no more; nor did Vaire know what he meant, _when you hear them_. It sent shivers down her spine regardless.

*

It was not long. Orome had scarce left to return to the Children, to stay with them while the rest of the Valar warred with Melkor for their sakes, when Vaire, weaving in the first hall, heard the first scream.

It was high and strangled, fear and pain forcing their way from a mangled throat. Vaire was halfway towards the opening of the fourth hall when she remembered Namo's words. Tearing out of Mandos, she shed her raiment. Forsaking words, she sang instead, the harp-like voice she had once raised in song in the Timeless Halls peeling out over Aman. Nienna and Este came to her call, rain and mist surrounding her; together, they flew back into Mandos, and down into the fourth hall.

Down and down they went, until they came at last to the deepest chamber. Namo knelt again by the pool; but laid beside him on the shore was a twisted soul barely a shadow in the starlight. It curled in on itself, and screamed again, trailing off into a whimper. Namo held up a hand to halt their approach. “They are in pain, and cannot stand much light or sound,” he whispered, “but they are in need of gentleness and healing.” Closing his eyes, he added, “There will be more. Many more, and much worse off than this one.”

As Este and Nienna cloaked themselves in their raiment again and knelt to tend to the pained spirit, Vaire looked again at all the tunnels. There was room enough here for thousands of such wraiths; perhaps millions. And her husband had never built without need. Slowly, she turned back to the pool, and looked carefully at the spirit. The echoes of terrible wounds still remained, even though they had shed their flesh.

 _So this is death_ , Vaire realized, clarity like ice in her veins. She closed her eyes. _The Children are not like us, who may shed and take form at will; and what is done to the flesh..._

There came another shriek, a different pitch to the first. Vaire did not open her eyes. A third voice joined it. Vaire heard Este gasp.

_...will leave scars on the spirit._

Vaire opened her eyes, and sought the dark gaze of her husband. Even as she did, a fourth and fifth spirit appeared twisted on the shore. Helpless sorrow and rage twisted in her chest. Namo stood, and took her in his arms.

“The first hall I crafted for the Firstborn, who are bound to Arda even as we are, and will not leave even in death. The second hall I made as a passage for the Secondborn, whose final fate will lie elsewhere. The third hall I built with Aule, for his children will be bound as well. This hall...” He tightened his grip on her as more screams rose from behind them.

“This hall will be for those of the Firstborn whom Melkor has twisted beyond the promise of the first hall. Here they will dwell, and hopefully by our arts be healed. But it will be more than torture, soon.” His eyes grew distant, and when he spoke, his voice was deep not only with pain but with prophecy.

“They will have children under shadow, and their children will have children. They will be bred to the will of Melkor, and to the will of evil that comes after. Shunned and shunning others, they will hate light and love and laughter, and know nothing of joy.” He took a breath, and his voice lost the resonance of doom. He closed his eyes.

“Yet they are still Children of Iluvatar, and thus their dead come into my keeping.”

Vaire swallowed, and touched Namo's face. He opened his eyes, and looked at her with despair.

“You are not alone, husband,” she whispered. “You told me to call Nienna and Este, and I have; Irmo also, I am sure, will come soon, seeking them. We will tend to them together, the...” She trailed off, and looked at him questioningly. Namo sighed.

“Orcs. That is what they will be known as.” Vaire bent his head down, and kissed his brow.

“Then we will do what we may for them, husband.”

Together, they turned back to the pool. The Children needed them.


End file.
